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3 Unforgettable Lessons the 9/11 Attacks Taught My 9 Year Old Self
Three things I’ve never forgotten since 2001
Okay, I was nine years, one day old the day it all happened. My mum was due back in town later that week, so I was with an aunt, who lived about half a mile away.
No sooner had I changed the channel to CNN than the news about the attack broke. In my 9-year old brain, I thought it was a movie. Not particularly fond of movies, I changed channels again after about 30 seconds, only for my aunt to tell me to put it back on CNN.
“Didn’t you say we should avoid violence on TV?” I reminded her. “Something serious is happening in America,” she retorted sharply with concern in her voice and tears in her eyes. I immediately realized something was wrong.
Quickly, I switched back to CNN, welcomed by footages of plumes of smoke from two tall buildings seemingly melting, dozens of fire trucks, sirens, and ambulances all scattered at the scene of the attack. I thought I heard her sobbing.
She quickly ran out of the living room to her bedroom, leaving me alone. I turned off the TV, and I also began crying. Still in my birthday outfit, I pulled up my denim top to wipe tears from my face.
